


Two-Hundred Years in the Making

by Sicklywrites



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, F/M, I will add tags as I go, Main story spoilers, Slow Burn, Spoilers, The rating will not go up, pls dont read and complain of spoils i warned you, spoiler warning, spoilers for Nick's personal quests and background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5289569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sicklywrites/pseuds/Sicklywrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She looked at him and sighed through her nose, running the pad of her thumb along the rigid edge of the bottle cap in her hand. She knew, although she wouldn’t admit it, that she wasn’t only convincing him of his humanity. She was convincing herself. Deep inside her she was finding it so morally wrong to have a stupid, juvenile, but warm and welcome crush on a robot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Edit as of 24/8/16: changed Sole's name)

Although there were better, sturdier houses in Sanctuary, Jane still slept in the bedroom of her house – her house two hundred years ago. Shaun’s crib was still standing across the hall, filled with the toys she’d found along the way, as well as those wooden blocks with the letters on them. Still, she knew, there was every chance Shaun was no baby anymore. The thought haunted her mind.

She was sitting in the living room as she had what seemed like only the other day, the record player in tatters and the television shattered. The radio sang dimly in from the remains of the kitchen, but it was background noise now. She brought the rim of her bottle of Nuka Cola up to her lips and sipped lightly. It tasted like the past, preserved and waiting underneath a bottle cap. She still found it funny, she thought as she flipped the cap back and forth in between her fingers, that it was now considered currency.

“I heard you convincing Garvey that I’m ‘human,’” Nick said, wandering into the living room with a cigarette between the spindly metal fingers of his broken hand. Jane briefly stopped fiddling with the cap and looked up at him over her shoulder.

“Human enough to smoke cigarettes even when the smoke comes pluming out of your cheek,” she said with a devilish smile. He smirked back, just as he often did when she was being a wiseass.

“It’s a habit,” he said, “and it’s not like it can hurt me.”

He walked casually around the sofa and landed himself next to her, leaning back and sighing as he stared at the television.

“You make it sound like I was trying to convince Preston your whole _broken face_ thing is just a mask,” she said. “I really meant that you… feel.”

“I feel, alright,” he agreed. “If Eddie Winter’s death has done anything, it’s shown me that I can feel.”

She nudged his shoulder with her hand.

“I never doubted that.”

He blinked at her with those glowing, circular pupils. He had the smile of a joke coming on, she could see it.

“Not even when you came into Diamond City just to be told all the horror stories about synths, to then rescue me thinking I was human?”

She grinned.

“The reverse damsel in distress, right?” she said, and paused. “The fact that you look like you do was enough,” she then added.

“Meaning…?”

“You’re clearly not trying to hide who you are. You just… take it and help anyway.”

“Got no choice,” he said, taking a slow puff of his cigarette. She smiled at the smoke slowly finding its way out of his face.

“You could have become a murderous machine at any point, Nick. You’re human.”

She looked at him and sighed through her nose, running the pad of her thumb along the rigid edge of the bottle cap in her hand. She knew, although she wouldn’t admit it, that she wasn’t only convincing _him_ of his humanity. She was convincing herself. Deep inside her she was finding it so morally wrong to have a stupid, juvenile, but warm and welcome crush on a _robot_.


	2. Chapter 2

“Vaultie, darlin’,” the stranger had said merrily, sagging off the side of the bar which he was hanging onto just to stay upright. He was off his face to say the least. “You wanna… do me a favour, hun?”

Nick and Jane were sitting at the bar at The Third Rail, looking quite amused at the stranger. Word had gotten around that the vault dweller was a good guy, a rare and beautiful thing in the wasteland, and she was easy to find with that Pip-Boy and the detective synth.

Jane was a little drunk and a little giggly.

“What’s the favour?” she asked with a smile on her face and half lidded eyes, chewing lazily on a kebab of whatever-the-hell kind of meat this was. Nick was fiddling with his pack of cigarettes and smirking, just waiting for something dumb to come out of the stranger’s mouth.

“Got sooooome… _caps!_ ” the man said, finding his words. “Also got an _itch_ if ya know what I’m sayin’, baby giiirl.”

Jane laughed, tempted to push him just slightly and watch him slide off the bar and onto the floor. He would make such a terrific thud.

“Scratch your own itch,” she said, a polite way of telling him to go fuck himself.

“No fun in the vaults, Vaultie?” he grinned weirdly, “No buh-buh-blowies in the—”

“Hey, you need to move along,” Nick said, finding this less funny by the second.

The drunk’s – or maybe the junkie’s – head turned to Nick and his brows furrowed.

“You got something to say you fuh-fucking Institute piece of shit?”

Nick shook his head and tucked his cigarettes back into his inner coat pocket, giving the guy a chance.

“I’m not interested, buddy. You need to go home,” Jane said, gesturing towards the door behind them. The man looked truly offended at that.

“Not going anywhere without you, baby girl,” he told her sternly. “You ain’t takin’ the sssssynth…”

He wobbled to one side for a moment, pulling a pipe pistol from the holster under his jacket, raising it slowly and predicably to Jane’s head.

“Guh-girl, you ain’t…”

Jane rolled her eyes at his drunken fumbling and slapped his pistol from his hand, letting it clatter to the floor. Heads turned in their direction at the sound, and Nick stood up, moving around to the back of the guy and taking his shoulders in his hands, forcefully pointing him towards the door and walking him towards it.

“Go enjoy your itch scratching, sir,” he said as the drunk mumbled insults and death threats. Nick opened the door kindly, pushed him through, and closed it behind him. He wouldn’t care even slightly if by the time they came out the stranger had passed out two inches from the door, face first on the wet ground. Jane was watching with a smile from her barstool.

“What a gentleman,” Nick said, sitting calmly back down beside her.

“Truly the pinnacle of all that is respectful and polite,” Jane agreed, “I especially enjoyed the part where he asked my _name._ ”

Nick chuckled and ran his fingers aimlessly over the bar top.

“Anyone ever call you Janie?” he asked.She raised an eyebrow at the realisation. She was so used to questions about pre-war times and her lost son that she’d forgotten almost entirely that she had an identity outside of that.

She was so used to questions about pre-war times and her lost son that she’d forgotten almost entirely that she had an identity outside of that. Being asked about being called Janie, she almost forgot entirely if she ever had.

“Yeah,” she said.

Nick nodded and smiled.

“Janie suits you,” he said. “I wouldn’t worry about names. Half the people you meet have merc names and titles. You’ve met the mayor’s bodyguard, Fahrenheit?”

He looked pretty amused by that, and so did she after a moment. Hancock and Fahrenheit. She wondered for a second – during the pause where all they could hear was the muttering of the people around them, the clinking of glasses and the calming tone of Magnolia’s singing – how did Nick find these names odd? If he was so used to them, why did he know any different? But then it would hit her again as it had many times before: she wasn’t the only one from the past. Their means of getting to the present time were different and both involuntary, but they were still both from the past. Their knowing each other was two-hundred years in the making.

* * *

“I got a question for you,” Nick said as they walked towards the inn through the thick stench of Goodneighbor.

“Yes?” she asked, and she was curious. Questions from Nick were always different from anyone else’s.

“If you could get back in that freezer, flick a switch and go back… to before… would you do it?”

It struck her like a ton of bricks. She’d never thought about it, under the assumption that _of course_ she would. But never being a possibility it was distant and out of her mind. They reached the inn before she spoke and Nick opened the door for her. A habit, she thought, hearing it in his voice.

“I don’t think I would,” she heard herself say, and Nick was visibly surprised.

“You wouldn’t?”

“I think I would… for Shaun. But if I find him, I think everything will be okay,” she explained. “I never _liked_ the white picket fence life. Nobody there was like me, and Nate… it was like that life had kind of… tainted him. It was sucking him up into this lifestyle and he just wasn’t him anymore. It wasn’t fun like it used to be.”

Nick didn’t have to ask if Nate was her husband. She’d never said his name before, which had only just occurred to him. He was always just _the husband_.

“The girls in Sanctuary Hills before, they’d bake cookies and make fresh lemonade and I think that’s what Nate wanted. I think that’s why it wasn’t really perfect. I was out of balance with it,” she continued. “There were times I just wanted to take Shaun and run. From Nate, from that town, from those God damn picket fences.”

Nick thought for a moment as they walked into the rented room.

“If it’s any consolation, I doubt any of the people there would have been able to do what you’ve done,” he said almost shyly. She looked to him, puzzled. “You fell into a whole other world, picked up a gun, and went on. I don’t think any other man or woman in your position would have even gotten out of that vault alive, let alone become what you have.”

“And what is it I’ve become?” she asked, the faint sting of tears in her eyes.

“What you were supposed to be when you were behind those picket fences, I suppose.”

There was a long period of silence, _true_ silence. Nick’s bright yellow eyes stared her down from under the brim of his hat and she thought she might stay there forever within the comfort of his gaze.

“We’ll find your son, Janie.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for the song "It's A Sin To Tell A Lie" goes to The Ink Spots.

Nothing about the Commonwealth felt like home. It felt like a darker dimension of it, but there was the silver lining. What was once her house now had proper walls that you couldn’t see through and a lock on the door. There was even a safe – an empty safe, but it’s the thought that counts – next to her bed.

It had been weeks since the conversation with Nick, and since then she’d delved into his damn mind and seen her son as a child. A walking, talking child. She buried her face in her hands, curled up on her old sofa without a Nuka Cola this time, and wept. Dogmeat laid patiently on the ground beside her, as he often did, but stood on his hind legs the moment he heard her crying, nudging his wet nose into her arm. She opened an eye to his panting face, full of love. If he could talk she was sure he would ask what was wrong. She extended her hand to his tilted head and scratched through the soft fur on the side of his face. She was about to tell him aloud what was making her cry, but couldn’t put it into words.

In reality, it wasn’t _just_ Shaun. She thought about Nate, Nate and his awkward haircut and sweet smile. She remembered a time when she loved him, but it was so much easier to remember a time when she wanted to run. A time when things just didn’t feel right, even when they might never have felt right in the first place. She remembered going into that vault, not relieved that they were safe and not scared of the explosion – she was more scared of the reality that for the rest of their lives they would be more stuck together than marriage could ever achieve by itself. Although she knew she might never leave him, the option was sealed away on the outside world and burned to ash.

Guilt hung over her with a very real weight. She really _liked_ Nick. She knew she shouldn’t. This situation would have been better, she thought, easier maybe, if his eyes didn’t glow. If she couldn’t see through his neck into the metal frame of his body. If he didn’t have the mind of a computer. She lay on the couch scratching through Dogmeat’s fur wondering if Nick even had a romantic desire. Was he even capable of such a thing?

Fresh tears stung her eyes, Dogmeat climbing up onto the sofa with her and laying down at her side. _You have a husband,_ she told herself, _and you’re falling for a robot._ But he wasn’t a robot, really, was he? He was self aware, wasn’t he? He’d told Jane how she was such a brilliant and valued friend, a person he would happily travel with over anything else, someone he could rely on and trust. Most humans didn’t even say things like that.

* * *

She woke up on the couch, Dogmeat gone, and stood drowsily from her spot. Her back ached from the awkward sleeping position. She opened the door to find Dogmeat, immediately seeing him lying on the dry grass with his teddy bear, chewing happily on its arm and enjoying the sun. She sighed, tempted to go back to bed now that she knew he was okay.

“I was wondering where you were,” Nick said somewhat cheerfully, his voice recognizable anywhere. She turned to him before she remembered what she must have looked like. Scruffy, slept on hair and red eyes. He looked shocked when he saw her face. “You alright?”

He stepped forward with genuine concern, a hand half reaching out for her. She rubbed her eyes in an attempt to hide her face and stepped back towards the door as if cowering.

“I’m fine, Nick.”

“I’m a _detective,_ ” he reminded her, “and with my detective eye I can see you look like shit.”

She felt his hand – the more human of the two – touch her shoulder and tensed.

“I’m—”

“I know it was tough on you,” he said. He had a kind of puppy dog eyes look, sorrowful and sympathetic.

“What was?”

“You know what I mean,” he said almost sternly, like he was scolding her for pushing him away. “The memories. Your son. I get it.”

Yes, he did. He had memories that weren’t his own as well. There was no one in the wasteland that would ever understand her situation more.

“You got a headache?” he asked, “I got some painkillers in my pocket.”

She raised an eyebrow with the first ounce of humour to come to her all day.

“Painkillers?” she asked, “But you don’t feel…”

“Not _me_ , but you do,” he said, and shooed her towards the door. “You have any water to wash it down with?”

* * *

She was sat back down on the couch when he came out of the kitchen with a glass bottle of water and two little white pills in his hand. The metal of his fingers scraped harshly against the glass when she took it from him, a grateful smile on her face.

“You’re too good to me,” she said, dropping the pills into her mouth and taking a slow sip.

“Hey,” he argued with a smirk, “they could be poison. You don’t know that.”

She laughed and rested back.

“I guess we’ll find out if I start frothing at the mouth.”

“Do you want me to stay awhile?” he asked, turning his head to the radio in thought. “MacCready keeps trying to make synth jokes and it’s wearing thin.”

“Nobody’s making you feel uncomfortable, are they?”

That was enough of a response for him to feel like she’d said _yes, I’d love you to stay._ He chuckled.

“I’ve had far worse than that,” he said, “And MacCready’s joke, by the way, was asking me if I’m _synthcronized_ with the ‘other bots.’”

“God, that’s…”

“Terrible,” he said. He turned on the radio and turned the knob until he got passed the static. Something slow and quiet started playing, which was good enough. Jane went to stand just as he turned to sit down, and they clashed together mid-way.

“Woah now, you should be resting,” he said, a hand on each of her shoulders. She was standing mere inches from him, horribly aware that she’d never seen his face so close before. They both said nothing, staring right into each other’s eyes. She thought one of them might get nervous or a little freaked out and have their eyes dart away, but neither flinched. In the silence, the radio’s gentle tunes played around them. Suddenly Nick’s face sparked up again.

“Almost like you wanted to dance,” he said. Her eyes travelled to the dent in his chin to the marks in his neck before falling to his eyes again. She giggled slightly.

“Have you ever danced in your _life_?”

“Come on,” he laughed, “When have I ever had to?”

“Was past-Nick ever a good dancer?” she asked with a smug little smile, boldly placing one hand on his shoulder and offering the other for him to take. He looked stunned.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to con me into a dance, Janie-girl,” He said, and with that he had her hand in his.

_(Be sure it’s true when you say ‘I love you’…)_

_Yes,_ she thought, _somewhere in that mind of his he knew how to dance._ Slowly they began, and perfectly. Their chests just a deep breath apart, they slow danced in the old living room to a song distant in their minds.

_(...It’s a sin to tell a lie…)_

“I think you’re starting to get the hang of me,” she said, her smile widening. “You’re starting to see _my ways_.”

_(…Millions of hearts have been broken…)_

“We’ve been travelling a while now,” he said, beginning to chuckle again, “and I’d have to be a bit of an ass to not observe.”

_(…Just because these words were spoken.)_

“Like what?” she tested, and felt bad immediately. He licked his top lip briefly and looked upwards in thought, giving her a momentary break from the harsh look of his neon eyes.

“You bite your nails when you’re scared,” he said, eyes coming back. “You become all sarcastic when you’re mad.”

She was nodding. She couldn’t disagree with what was completely right.

_(I love you, yes I do, I love you…)_

“And?”

“When you’re picking a lock you make this _face_ ,” he explained, “You pucker your lips like you’re about to kiss the damn thing.”

 _Kiss the damn man_ she corrected him in her head.

_(…If you break my heart I’ll die…)_

She nodded and kept her laugh stifled. Any louder and she might look crazy and a little delirious. She felt that way, her hands beginning to sweat and her heart racing heavily. Their eyes had met and they’d stopped for a moment, all but dancing alone in that room.

_(…So be sure it’s true when you say I love you…)_

They came a little closer together. Jane could feel the end of his coat against her leg and the gentle rubbing of his thumb on her hand. She refused to tell herself it was affection, even if his softening face, almost sad, said otherwise.

She found herself pushing it back again. _You don’t love him, Janie, you can’t, he’s not—_

_(…It’s a sin to tell a lie.)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR THE MAIN PLOT OF FALLOUT 4, up to the quest 'The Molecular Level'  
> In other words, please don't read this and then complain that you've been spoiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REMINDER OF SPOILERS

“Are you _sure_ you want to go into that thing?” Nick asked, looking up at Jane, a step away from the… machine. It was huge and terrifying.

“If I don’t, I’ll never know.”

“You know, I’m not so confident about it either,” Sturges said from the sidelines, his arms crossed. He looked nervous, but not nearly as nervous as Nick. Nick had the full puppy dog eyes look about him.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Jane said, although she wasn’t so sure of that. “I have to go. I have to _try._ ”

“There has to be an alternative to _this,_ ” Nick said, gesturing at the giant glowing monstrosity she and Sturges had built. It was crackling with electricity and whirring with energy, and alarm bells were screaming inside his head. _Don’t let her do this!_

“No, this is ridiculous,” Nick said. “What if that mutant was crazy, and this is some great big toaster. You don’t even know if it works.” He paused, and then added, “It could kill you!”

Jane stood with one foot on the metal edge of the platform. Apparently all it took was for her to stand on it and Sturges to throw her, with the powers of science, into the Institute.

“Make up your mind,” Sturges said impatiently, “The generators can’t wait around for you to decide.”

Jane looked into Nick’s neon eyes and swallowed.

“I have to find my son, Nick. I have to bring him home. This could be the last step… and then next time you see me,” her voice cracked, “I could have him in my arms again.”

Nick’s brow furrowed and his lips pressed tight together.

“I can’t stop you, but if you die, know that I warned you.”

She nodded and stepped up onto the platform, Sturges moving towards the switch.

“Don’t say goodbye to me, I’m coming back,” Jane said sternly, watching Nick through it all. Sturges started counting down, _three, two,_ (A tube explodes, and Nick is sure he’s going to run up onto the platform and grab her before it’s too late,) _one…_

* * *

Jane, back home again, stood in the doorway of Shaun’s decrepit room. She could remember how Nate had leant on it in the same way during their last few minutes of normality. He’s said something cheesy, she could remember, not that she had to, Nate was always saying something cheesy. Two hundred years ago. She burst into tears and stormed into the room, slamming down the side of Shaun’s crib and grabbing at all the toys she had collected over the past months. She grabbed one of the alphabet blocks and threw it furiously out of the window, clipping the last bits of glass on the frame and shattering loudly. The next block came, and the next, and the next, and then it was the little toy rocket ship, and after that, the _“Stupid fucking astronaut monkey!”_

Her frustrated screaming must have caught the attention of someone because she could hear footsteps rushing around the corner and down the hallway towards her.

“Blue?” Piper called, stopping dead in her tracks as the crib fell sideways and landed loudly on the floor, breaking in almost all of its joints. Jane was holding the lamp next, ripping its cord from the useless power point.

“FUCKING INSTITUTE!” Jane was screaming, about to throw the lamp when a set of arms wrapped around her from behind, pinning her arms crossed across her chest and forcing her to drop it. She thought it was Piper until she turned awkwardly – almost falling from the weakness in her knees – and Piper was still in the doorway. She looked down, her vision blurred from the tears, to see the dirty sleeves of Nick’s trench coat and his two different hands. The pointed metal tips of his broken one dug into her arm, and for a good moment that was all she could feel.

She fell to the floor, one knee hitting the broken glass of the lightbulb on the floor. Piper rushed over and knelt down in front of her.

“What’s going on?” she asked, genuine shock and concern on her face. Jane felt as if she might have a heart attack and die in Nick’s arms, her heart drumming painfully inside her chest. She couldn’t force the words out of her mouth as to what had happened. The simple truth: her son wasn’t ten anymore, and the line between friend and foe when it came to the Institute had now become blurry.

Piper grabbed onto Jane’s arm in a sort of trying-to-comfort way, but Jane wriggled madly backwards against Nick. She did not want to be touched.

“I’ll get a drink!” Piper announced, running from the room so fast she almost fell forwards.

Nick pressed his cheek to the top of Jane’s head and cuddled her close.

“It’s alright…” he whispered, although he truly didn’t know if it was. His first indication that she was even back was the shattering of glass.

“My son, my _Shaun_ ,” she wept, moving her arms from their pinned position to wrap them around Nick’s, “It was _sixty years,_ Nick. Sixty fucking years.”

He didn’t quite understand, his eyes narrowing in thought.

“What?”

She slipped out of his grip and sat limp on the floor, her hands hanging over her legs. She was so clearly exhausted.

Mustering up the energy to speak, she closed her eyes.

“They stole him sixty years ago.”

* * *

She had told him all about it by the time she sat down by the fire, drinking Nuka Cola and staring blankly into the flames. Piper, Preston, Hancock and MacCready had joined them, hearing only the end of the story, but they didn’t dare ask more. Except for Piper.

“So… the Institute…” she began, “Was it—”

“Piper, stop,” Nick said in a low and tired voice.

“She’s been through so much,” Preston said sympathetically, rubbing his hands together. They’d joined at this little bonfire, each of them sitting on patio chairs they’d found lying around Sanctuary.

“It’s some fu—I mean—screwed up stuff,” MacCready said, and downed another sip of beer.

“Damn...” Preston sighed, "I couldn't imagine.”

“Is there anything we can do, Blue?” Piper asked, leaning forward on her chair and looking to Jane as if trying to catch her eye. Jane just shook her head, her eyes not moving from the fire when she took another tiny sip of cola. Hancock came back and sank into the last empty chair. He’d only left for a quick toilet break. He seemed suspiciously more docile than when he left.

“What time is it?” Preston. Jane lifted her Pip Boy to her eyes and looked briefly.

“Ten past one,” she answered, and her arm flopped back down. With that, Preston stood up.

“It’s late,” he said. “We should all get to bed.”

He paused to look at Jane, whose eyes were freed from the fire and now looking to him. She was clearly miserable.

“ _All_ of us,” Preston added.

“I’m alright,” Jane lied, running her thumb along the glass of the bottle. She barely noticed how rough her skin had gotten since she thawed out.

“Preston’s right,” Piper agreed. “You should get some rest. Sleep on it.”

Jane rolled her eyes.

“I’ll be fine.”

“She’ll be fine,” Hancock said distantly.

* * *

Nick came back out at three in the morning, the fire smouldering now. Jane was still there, her Nuka Cola empty in her lap.

“Janie?” he whispered cautiously to the back of her head.

“I’m awake.”

Nick sighed.

“That’s the problem,” he said. “I’m the one that’s supposed to be up all night, but you _have to_ sleep.”

“Don’t nag me… please…” she said, and he could tell from her voice that she was fighting to stay up.

“I’ll nag you all I want,” he said, and put his hand lightly on her forearm. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your bed.”

She refused for a minute, but then stood wobbly as if drunk.

“Why do you care?” she asked. “The case is closed. I found my son. He’s an old man and the great and powerful _Father._ ”

He would have normally found her sarcasm endearing, but he was concerned.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not here for caps or detective work,” he said, and she heard the anger in his voice and almost cowered.

“Then why are you, Valentine?” she said meekly, her face barely illuminated in the light as they walked.

“Because you’re my friend, dammit, and the only damn person in the Commonwealth who gives a shit.”

She frowned.

“Don’t get mad,” she said, her voice dying out.

“I’m not, Janie,” he sighed, frowning along with her. He was quiet and sorrowful. “I’m just worried.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

The commonly seen duo that had become of Nick and Janie were seen exiting The Third Rail three days after Jane’s breakdown. Nick didn’t know and didn’t ask why they were going to Goodneighbor exactly, until she mentioned some new weaponry from that assaultron that spoke like she was trying to seduce you with death threats.

They walked in the drizzle, glowing neon lights turning each raindrop into a beautiful red flicker. There was something so peaceful about watching Janie walk a few steps ahead of him, carelessly moving through the drizzle, her hair bouncing at her shoulders.

“Maybe I should get my hair done,” Nick joked, lifting his hat briefly to rub his plastic head, trying to lighten the mood. She was still… sad. Jane turned around with the first smile he’d seen on her face for days, her hair cut in Diamond City on the way to Goodneighbor. “I really like the trim you got,” he added.

He wouldn’t admit to himself how long it took to be able to compliment her.

“I haven’t had it done since I came off the ice.”

Nick smirked.

“I would have liked to have seen you before the war,” he said, “You would have been one classy gal.”

“Maybe you did see me, in another life,” she said, and their gaze had locked. “I was the one with that… short and wavy hair, a little longer at the side, neatly made up every morning even if I wasn’t doing anything that day.”

She sighed, kind of amused by that.

“I think I would have remembered, or… Nick would have remembered.”

“And what makes you think I’m not a classy gal now?” she said, clearly joking. “Nothing says class like steel armour and shotguns.”

Nick laughed as they walked. It was his suggestion that they take a night off and get a drink. Jane agreed, rented two rooms so they could stay in town, and changed into a casual white button up shirt and jeans, looking the cleanest he’d ever seen her. She was gorgeous, and he wouldn’t deny himself that. He’d watched her all night, sitting on the sofa with a drink, watching Magnolia sing (Jane had said many times how much she loved Magnolia’s singing), and look more normal than she had been allowed for months. She really was one of a kind, in a both a metaphorical and literal sense.

Jane rubbed her face where a new scar was forming out of a cut in the crease between her lips and her chin. It was from their last fight – a group of super mutants that had caught them in between Diamond City and Goodneighbor. It was too fresh to scab up, but she still touched it, the pain grabbing her attention every now and then.

“I told you, you should stop scratching that,” Nick said, snapping back into reality. More often than not she put him into a haze.

“It _stings,_ ” Jane said, brow furrowing as she looked at the small smear of blood on her fingers. “Know what that feels like, you big circuit board?”

Nick sighed, chuckling, and took her by the shoulder to face him, moving his hand to hold her chin with his thumb and index finger, his thumb just below the cut.

“Let me look at it,” he said, “it might need a stitch or two.”

She looked up at him as his thumb touched her skin just below the cut, and it felt as if the world had stopped; all but her gentle breathing and the fall of the flickering rain. He held her there, but not against her will. She stood, calmly and nervously, with her face in his hand. He looked scared in a way of not knowing what to do, his eyes darting just once to her lips.

“Nick?” she whispered. In the second he was given to think, no response seemed good enough, nor… adequate

“Jane.”

Very slowly, as if pulled by a force not of this world and an urge that had him gripped tight in its hand, he leant forward, tilting Janie’s head up just enough to meet her lips with his.

Jane felt giddy, fluttering wildly inside her chest. She had thought many times over in the moments before she fell asleep what his lips would feel like, and every one of her assumptions were wrong. His lips felt more human to her – more real – than anything she had ever experienced. But as real as it felt and as real as it was, it could not have felt further from that.

The first moment of the kiss was scared before Nick realised she wasn’t pulling away, and something inside him, an urge like a rare creature of the wasteland, had him kissing a little deeper, a little harder.

She breathed heavy as if there was a fist around her lungs, and a moment later he felt her hands on his waist, and moved his own metal hand to her arm. The cold, blunt edges of his fingers brushed against her skin, and she shivered, pulling him closer and finding her hand around his tie.

When the kiss broke the world started up again, waking up like it did after a long winter.

“God, Janie, I’m sorry,” Nick started, moving his hands from her as quickly as they could politely go. “That was… unprofessional, I—”

As he turned away she grabbed him, smiling involuntarily when she pulled him back. He only caught a glimpse of it before his eyes shut and their lips met again, an urge he thought he never had rising up in him like an age old monster – and it was _very_ welcome to. He looked down at her with slightly parted lips and thought that if he could have, he would have forgotten to breathe. With that he wrapped his arms around her once more, tilted his head down to hers, and kissed her with no thoughts of the consequences _anywhere_ in his mind.

She started giggling quietly, placing her hands on his cheeks, her fingers hooking ever so slightly around the broken ridge of his face and touching the metal of his jaw. Not for a second did she think of how he wasn’t ‘real’ or any of the things that had previously plagued her mind. Instead she was looking deeply into the round, yellow almost-circles of his eyes. _Yes,_ she thought, _this is it._

He was smiling too when she came back to reality, her heart racing and her lips tingling. She hadn’t felt that for _so long._ He was holding onto her by the waist, his thoughts wild.

“I’ve never, uh…” he began, and stopped.

“Hmm?”

“I’ve never wanted to do that before,” he admitted, “I never have… at all.”

Jane’s brow furrowed again, her smile fading.

“I thought you and Irma had…”

“More of a… running joke than anything else. Never touched the woman,” he said. “This… isn’t. I’ll tell Irma to back the hell off if…”

Jane sighed through her nose, amused.

“So you’re not just pulling my leg?”

He pulled her closer until the gap between them was completely gone, his fingers finding her chin as they had before. He smiled, his lips puckering almost instinctively.

“No.”

And he kissed her again.


	6. Chapter 6

Nick wandered anxiously towards Piper, who was sitting down on the stairs of the little watch tower, aggressively scribbling notes into the notebook on her lap.

“So, Piper, how’s it going?”

She didn’t look up.

“Writing. What about you, Nicky?”

“I was just going to ask you a hypothetical,” he said as casually as he could, “I know you like ‘em.”

She looked up at that, a lopsided smirk on her face.

“You got me,” she said, “what is it?”

His nose crinkled nervously.

“If you were to be… wooing a girl—or a guy, I suppose—how would you…”

Piper’s face lit up, probably bright enough to light up the whole of Sanctuary if the generators ever failed.

“You’ve got a crush!” she said like a schoolgirl, enthusiastically lifting her ass off the step and tucking her notebook up under her arm. “Is it Blue?”

He didn’t respond, touching the pocket of his coat just to give his hand something to do.

“You know, _Janie!_ The Vaultie!”

“Piper, it’s a hypothetical.”

“Bull _shit_ it is,” she said, grinning ear to ear and chuckling. “You’ve got your motor runnin’ for Janie, haven’t ya?”

“ _Piper,_ ” He growled, and she immediately knew he was trying to shut her up so nobody overheard. Piper laughed.

“So you want to woo her, do you?” she said, wiggling her shoulders when she said ‘woo.’

Nick paused.

“Hypothetically.”

Piper contained her grin to a smirk and rocked side to side from one foot to the other.

“Well, I can help you if you answer a question for me.”

Nick looked frustrated.

“I’m _not_ doing an interview.”

“Off the record, I promise,” Piper nodded. “Fully respectful, personal question.”

“ _Fine,_ what?”

Piper pretended to think about it as if the question wasn’t already bouncing around in her skull, letting her eyes wander away.

“Have you kissed?” she asked, her eyes coming very quickly back to his. Nick stepped back like a frightened animal and shook his head, waving a hand far more dramatically than he could ever remember doing before.

“No!”

“Liar, liar, Nicky-boy, I can see it in your face,” Piper said confidently, pointing to him.

“Well—even if—”

“She wouldn’t kiss you if she didn’t like you!” she said. “And it’s _vital_ for me to work out the angle.”

“Angle?”

“You want help, don’t you?”

He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I shouldn’t have said hi to you,” he said, almost amused by the fact. “You’re always trouble.”

Piper shrugged.

“So is Janie,” she said. “But I guess you _like_ trouble. _Falling_ for trouble.”

He reluctantly looked back to her.

“I’m not falling for anyone.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Piper said, and then smiled again. “I knew it anyway. MacCready and I were going to bet on whether you’d fess up or not, but we both agreed it would happen eventually.”

Nick groaned.

“Go get her some flowers or somethin’, Nick,” she suggested. “Make sure she doesn’t think it was just some impulse kiss.”

“Ha,” he laughed, “I’m not even sure if it wasn’t just impulse for _her._ ”

Piper shrugged again.

“Well, you’ll soon find out, wont you?”

* * *

Nick _Valentine,_ Nick thought stupidly, holding a bunch of wildflowers in his hand. They were pretty, but he’d give a hell of a lot for some pre-war flowers. Roses would be the best, bright red and everything she remembered from before. He found her standing in the dry grass behind her house, bottles set up on the fence and a 10mm pistol in her hand, Pip-Boy playing ‘I’m The One You’re Looking For’ by Magnolia, a woman whose music Jane adored.

Jane raised the pistol up, shooting three bottles down in the span of a few seconds. There was something weirdly balanced about hearing Magnolia’s sensual voice and watching a woman at work with a gun, but he was enjoying every moment of it.

_I see you lookin' 'round the corner_

_Come on inside and pull up a chair_

_No need to feel like a stranger_

_Cause we're all a little strange in here_

He knew the lyrics of that song like the back of his hand, mostly because he associated every one of Magnolia’s songs with Janie. How he watched her sit there on the couch, one leg crossed over the other and a cola in her hand, nodding lightly to the sound of gentle music.

_So we're glad you dropped by_

_Come in and loosen up your tie_

_Have a drink or maybe just one more_

_But if you're searchin' for something to bring you comfort_

_Oh well, I'm the one you're lookin' for._

_Now is your motor running close to empty?_

_Or are you runnin' from yourself?_

_Or are you thirsty for a brand new kind of pleasure?_

_Or are you hungry to be someone else?_

He rubbed his forehead as if there was any sweat to wipe away and watched for a moment more, convincing himself to just go up to her. Regardless his legs were refusing, and there was no excuse that they were faulty. He watched Janie’s newly trimmed hair falling just long enough to brush against her exposed freckled shoulders, bouncing slightly with each gunshot. He tapped his teeth together, his only movement, and sighed.

_Shit. I’ve got it bad._

Jane turned around to fetch another clip, luckily watching her gun instead of looking upward, and it was now or never – unless he wanted to be seen standing there like an idiot with flowers in his hand. His legs kicked into gear and he stepped forward.

“I… thought you might like some flowers.”

Janie’s face lit up just like Piper’s, except this time with flattery instead of excitement.

“Are you… flirting with me, Nick?”

He laughed nervously.

“I _might_ be,” he said, “I’m not sure yet.”

She approached him, holstering the pistol.

“What aren’t you sure of?” she asked, because she seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. Nick looked like a deer in the headlights – or maybe a ragstag in the spotlight – and Jane smiled it off.

“You, I guess,” he said. “You… well, you know what happened.”

The truth was, they were both afraid to mention it.

“What happened, Nicky?”

He leant forward just a fraction, trying to be smooth. _This,_ he’d say as he kissed her, and it would be like a romance novel. But he didn’t have it in him, and just choked on his own words instead.

“To be honest, I’m not sure of _you,_ ” he said. “Not in a bad way, just a nervous and stupid kind of way.”

She smiled.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t get it, basically,” he sighed. “You kissed me.”

She looked scared, her smile disappearing.

“You didn’t… want it?”

“Well,” he muttered, gesturing to the flowers, “I did.”

Her smile returned, and his came with.

“Sorry, I’m not a very good romantic,” he said.

She shook her head. “You’re not really built to be romantic, Nick.”

“I must be at least a little,” he said, and Janie gently took the flowers. “Enough to want to kiss you again.”

He felt her hand touch his just barely, her finger moving to grab him but backing off.

“Are you asking?”

“I might be,” he said.

She took his face in her hands again and brought him down to her lips, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. When he stood back up straight he was faintly aware of a hand finding his, and intertwined their fingers.

“I honestly don’t know… how this happened,” she said quietly, and he was still reeling from getting another kiss. “I didn’t think that’s… what you felt. I know you’re as human as anyone, Nick, but you _want_ to?”

He hesitated.

“Don’t waste your time on me, sweetheart,” he said, and looked suddenly miserable as he slipped his hand from hers. “I’m a synth. You’re a beautiful young lady with a hell of a lot more options than some old bot.” His hand rose to the hole in his neck. “I don’t even have my whole face. I don’t have…”

He took a long pause and she stood awkwardly watching him, just wishing she had the words to convince him.

“Go get yourself another human, or hell, a super mutant would be better than me,” he said, sighing and looking to the ground. “Someone that could give you… what you need. Closer to home, you know?”

Jane suddenly understood what he was saying, and as his eyes came back up to hers, he could see the shock.

“Nick, if you’re trying to tell me it’s because you don’t have the _parts—_ ”

He looked embarrassed.

“Sweetheart, I _am_ parts,” he said. “This isn’t even my original leg.”

“Tell me what you mean, Nick,” she said, incredibly tempted to take his hands. He sighed and thought for the words.

“I mean… I want to give you flowers and kiss you, and dance like we did but _closer_ , but one day you’ll think it’s all just the same, and you’ll get bored with me,” He explained honestly. “I’m not…”

“I’m not in it for sex, Valentine,” she said. “I’m not in _anything_ for sex. It’s just not me.”

He looked as alarmed as he did shocked.

“I’m so sorry, this isn’t what I came to talk about with you, you’re probably offended—”

“I’m not,” Janie smiled reassuringly. “I’m telling you I have no interest. What I _am_ interested in is being given flowers,” she said, “to be kissed, and danced with like I did with you only closer. I’m not going to get bored with you, Nicky.”

He looked at her with a furrowed brow.

“Now who’s pulling the others’ leg?” he said. “You’re not just saying this?”

She smirked.

“Why would I?”

For the first time since awkwardly passing her the flowers, he was smiling again. Wide.

“Maybe I’m just an extraordinarily good kisser.”

They grinned at each other like children.

“Maybe you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to note, I'm asexual myself. I had a lump in my throat writing Nick's dialogue about Jane getting sick of him, because of the simple fact that I've been in that situation myself. I've been broken up with simply because I was boring, because who wants to date someone who doesn't want sex?  
> To any other asexuals out there - someone's gonna love you, regardless. You're not broken and you're not boring, and you deserve all the love in the world.


	7. Chapter 7

“Which room is yours, doll?” Nick asked, leaning on the stone wall. It had been a long trip moving from Sanctuary to the Castle, and truthfully she was happy to be out of Sanctuary. There was something wrong about kissing Nick in the same yard where she had once lived with her husband and son. It made her heavy with guilt, up until now.

“Preston insisted I get my own,” Jane smiled. “Hopefully some day soon everyone here can have their own quarters. I have plans.”

“I’m sure you do,” Nick smiled. “I’d be worried if you didn’t.”

They were in what Deacon had playfully called ‘the war room’, the room with the big table in the middle and the Minutemen hanging proudly on the wall. Also the fat man and a couple of mini nukes, which the mirelurks had unintentionally been guarding.

Jane leant over the table and stretched her fingers.

“I could go for a hot shower,” she said. “I think those days are over, though.”

“How about a hot synth instead?” Nick joked, coming around the side of the table to lean on it right beside her.

“Your circuitry overheating?” Jane laughed, and he pursed his lips as if to scold her, even if his smile and glowing eyes said differently.

“You know how to make a guy blush,” he said. “Too bad I can’t.”

“Good one,” Jane smiled, noticing his eyes wandering down to her lips. She took his tie gently within her hand and tugged him a little closer, and he came willingly towards her, resting his forehead on hers and letting his hands take a little adventure across her hips and to her ass. She didn’t mind the gentle squeeze and tug from his hands, bringing them closer at the hips. She smirked up at him and took his hat from his head, putting it on hers instead.

“Don’t do _that_ ,” he joked, “nobody will be able to tell us apart.”

She smiled knowingly and slipped her hands between his coat and his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders. For a moment he was confused and flustered, until she swung it out from around him and onto herself, tugging it over her arms and adjusting the front.

He laughed.

“It’s a good look.”

“Why thank you, Detective Valentine,” She said, pretending to bring a cigarette to her lips. “Or is it _I_ who’s the detective now?”

Nick’s laugh was perfect to Janie. Low and laid back, it was borderline relaxing.

“If it wasn’t so cute, I’d roll my eyes.”

“Cute?” Jane nearly blushed.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

She felt her cheeks burning up and like an embarrassed child buried her face in his chest, unable to make sense of the words jumbling up in her head. Nick laughed, wrapping his arms around her once more. They stood like that for a few minutes, Nick resting his head on the top of hers, his own hat under his chin.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your hat and coat,” she said, her cheek against the fabric of his shirt.

“Thoughts?”

“Very handsome.”

He snorted.

“Back to my original question, though…”

She’d already forgotten, and looked up at him puzzled.

“…Which one’s your room, doll?”

“Why do you ask, Detective?”

“Is curiosity enough?”

She bit her tongue, smiling.

“No, it isn’t. _Why do you ask?_ ”

“I’ll get it out of you, yet,” he said, and planted an unexpected kiss to her lips. She was lost in his kiss for a long while, so very in love with him, though she wouldn’t say. When the kiss broke she was woken back up by his voice: “Now give me back my coat.”

 

* * *

 

The day was ending the way they all had, never really feeling like it was over. Since waking up from being on the ice she felt like every day had merged into one really _long_ day with occasional naps in between. She opened the door into what was now her room, a walled off area of the castle only big enough for a fairly large single bed, a footlocker and a bedside table. Her eyes were sore from a day of living, and it took a moment to notice the bottle of Nuka Quantum on her bed, leant up on the pillow. Tied on the neck of the bottle was a tag, which Janie eagerly approached to read.

She lifted the bottle, the tag dangling off it, and picked it between her fingers to read it.

_“I know you like these better than flowers. PS: I’m a detective, remember?”_

She smirked. Ah yes, there was no hiding one’s whereabouts to a detective, was there?


	8. Chapter 8

Jane hated thinking of everything she once knew as ‘pre-war ruins,’ but staring up at the broken ceiling from the floor of an old building, she knew why they were called that.

A radstorm had hit them on their way back to home, and although Nick could have walked quite freely through the radioactive lightning, Jane had to flee indoors.

Someone must have lived here once, which was apparent from the empty bottles of booze and the mattress on the floor. Nick swept the bottles away with his foot, putting them in a clanking pile in the corner, and Jane sat on the mattress. It was surprisingly clean, too.

“You know I don’t sleep, right?” Nick smirked, “I just shut down for a while.”

“Too bad,” Jane smiled up at her, taking her hat from her head and placing it beside the mattress. “I’m going to pretend you do.”

She took his hand and pulled him down to the single mattress, making room for him before snuggling up at his side. He smiled, and if he could have he would have blushed.

“You’re getting sweet on me, Janie.”

She sighed and ran her hand along his chest, playing with his tie.

“I’ve been sweet on you a long time, Detective.”

He snorted and put his arm comfortably around her.

“The reverse damsel in distress situation, huh?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The rain sounded on the tin roof, a sound that Jane missed but never really had the chance to appreciate since falling head first into this other world. Now here she was cuddling with a robot, about to fall asleep on him.

“You know, sweetheart, I still think you should—”

“Shut up, Nick,” Jane interrupted. “I chose you.”

“I know, I just don’t get why, smartass,” he chuckled.

She leant up and looked him in the eyes.

“Because I love you.”

His eyes widened and his lips parted, utterly shocked and speechless.

“Well, I, uh…” he paused, scratching his brow with his robotic hand. “I... can’t say I expected that.”

He shifted nervously under her and bit at his bottom lip.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, Nick, I was just letting you know—”

“No!” he corrected, “Don’t be stupid. I love you too, Janie-girl. Didn’t think I… had it in me to say.”

She giggled and took his face, kissing him giddily.

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

“No,” he chuckled, “I promise,” and kissed her again.

“What a strange couple we make,” she said, eyes closed. He sighed happily, _contently_ , and ran his metal fingers through her hair.

“There is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in the proportion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round of applause for me actually finishing this fic. Also, that last quote is Edgar Allan Poe (what a weird thing to put in a fan fiction) but Nick quoted him once before in the game and I thought maybe it would be appropriate I DUNNO


End file.
